


Ruminations

by wavewright62



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Flash Fic, Fluff and Crack, Gen, Humor, Mage School, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 10:46:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19061077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wavewright62/pseuds/wavewright62
Summary: The Sickfic week prompt: "Reynir - Mage overexertion, Icelandic style"





	Ruminations

Reynir thoughtfully chewed his breakfast. He’d forgotten what simple Icelandic food tasted like, after all that time eating Mikkel’s so-called cooking. It was wonderful to be home again. He looked out across the summer meadow, with the shadows of the clouds slipping silently over the hillsides, and the breeze playing across his back. It was so very peaceful.

Mage school was pretty easy. True, he had to wrack his brains learning all the distinctions between what substances runes could be painted or carved with. Also, what effect the surface you drew it onto would have on the spell. Also, what phase the moon was in, and which conjunctions of weather to look out for. Also, the effect your own body would have – the women in the class would shift uncomfortably in their seats, and the teacher would just stare at Reynir in exasperation when they got to that part. He belched and shook his head.

Reynir remembered that he would stare and stare at his runes in an effort to find the combination of lines that felt right. It was like that time Lalli had handed him a bunch of pages ripped out of Tuuri’s books and a pencil, and set him to drawing runes. One had worked, and Reynir had a lot of practice applying that rune, but he couldn’t really just feel the combination that worked. He had some more knowledge about it now, but only after concentrating really hard for so long. Maybe mage school wasn’t quite _so_ easy.

He took another bite as stared out across the hillsides. He would be relegated to painting runes on fenceposts, like Aunty Helga. Grumpy Aunty Helga, always complaining, always complaining about how overworked she was. Poor Aunty Helga used to sleepwalk, he remembered. It was always in the run-up to lambing season, when she would be called upon to paint runes for the protection of the lambs. She used to get so exhausted that she would sleepwalk, always ending up on somebody’s roof. Most of the time she was under the impression she was a sheep, and she’d been eating the turf on the roof. He belched, remembering how they’d all laughed and laughed at her, perched up there with grass stuck in her teeth. But now he felt some sympathy for poor Aunty Helga, now that he knew more about magic. He would never say anything baa-aa-ad about her again.

Reynir stopped chewing. It was dark suddenly? He ran his tongue over his teeth, afraid of what he would find. He spat out the mouthful of grass hurriedly as his fears were confirmed.


End file.
